Phantom Parody of the Opera
by Venture Wood
Summary: This is just complete random silliness. Please read because, I'd say, it's pretty funny! What happens when you get an insane Author and POTO put together? You'll have to read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

_I've just been writing "Back to the Beginning" and it's been great, no doubt of it. But I've had the sudden urge to write a comedy so this is just basically Phantom of the Opera, but really random, A LOT different (ok, maybe not too much), and hilarious! Not meant to be taken seriously! So lean back, grab a bag of "Lays", and enjoy! Written in script form just because I felt like it and because...well... no, only 'cause I felt like it! P.S. The Narrator is actually not me. Let's just go with... Bob... the uh, hobo. P.P.S Yes, they are out of character on PURPOSE! Just thought I should let you know! Especially Erik. His OOCness makes it ten times funnier. OH YES! I do not, nor have I ever, owned Phantom of the Opera. All rights go to Andrew Lloyd-Webber, Joel Schumacher, Gerard Butler, Emmy Rossum, Patrick Wilson, Miranda Richardson, Jennifer Ellison, and the other actors and people who helped make the movie! Thanks!_

* * *

><p>Narrator: So here we are, watching Percy Jackson fight it out with... Wait (tunes into bluetooth headphones), I've just got a call... Wait, this is Phantom of the Opera? My bad! (clears throat awkwardly) Umm... I'll see ya later! (dashes off)<p>

Auctioneer: So I've been thinking... I found all of this old junk and was wondering if anybody wanted it. I've got crap! Big loads of crap! Who wants cr-... That sounds awkward.

Raoul: I want the monkey box!

Madame Giry: Hey! I want it more! (Raoul and Madame Giry get into a bickering fight much like two five year-olds would)

Auctioneer: Settle down, settle down! There's only one way to solve this! WRESTLING! (sudden heavy rock starts playing and Raoul and Madame Giry are suddenly wearing awkward wrestling costumes. Crowds appear out of nowhere and the Auctioneer is suddenly the announcer)

Auctioneer: And in this corner, we have the fearless Viscount de Chagny! (waits for the crowds to cheer)

Auctioneer: And in the OTHER corner we have Madame Giry! (waits for crowds to cheer again)

Raoul: What are we doing?

Madame Giry: I dunno but let's FIGHT! (rushes towards Raoul who's still sitting in his wheelchair.)

Narrator: Wait a minute! Just wait a minute! (crowds and costumes fade)

Madame Giry: (Face falls) But I wanted to beat 'im up!

Narrator: Yeah, yeah! You and the rest of the Phan girls! You'll have your chance AFTER we tell this story got it?

Madame Giry: (sighs) Fine.

Narrator: (turns away while muttering under his breath) Well, see you guys later on.

Raoul: Can I pwetty pwetty PLEASE have the box? See it's for Ch-

Madame Giry: Shut up fool! Don't give it away!

Raoul: Oh, right! I, the Viscount de Chagny, just wanted to take the box to my poor deceased wife and-

Madame Giry: Oh, you IDIOT!

Raoul: What? I just said I was taking the box to my deceased wife!

Madame Giry: Yeah, and everybody knows that you married CHRISTINE!

Raoul: So- ...OH! I get it now!

Madame Giry: Yes! See!

Raoul: Now everybody will know that I was going to give her the music box! Silly me! (smiles while shaking head)

Madame Giry: (Facepalm) Can we just get on with the story now?

Narrator: Yes, ummm... Just pretend that Raoul never said anything. Chandelier guys! Just raise the chandelier now, please!

Chandelier dudes: (pull up big sheet only to find a tractor instead of the chandelier)

Madame Giry: What in the heck is that thing? (freaked out)

Raoul: (Pees pants) Oh... my gosh, it's COME TO KILL ME!

Madame Giry: Oh, shut up!

Narrator: (Facepalm) I asked for a CHANDELIER and they give me a TRACTOR!

Raoul and Madame Giry: What's a trac- a trak- a... whatever you just said?

Narrator: Sorry guys, this isn't going to be invented for awhile. (angrily calls the workshops)

Workshop dude: Y-ello?

Narrator: I asked for a CHANDELIER not a JOHN DEERE!

Workshop dude: Oh... Sorry 'bout that... Umm I'll have some of my men run it over to you in about an hour, m'kay?

Narrator: AN HOUR? This show cannot wait an hour!

Workshop dude: Well, it's going to take an hour to get over there so... I don't really know what to tell you...

Narrator: (now speaking to the cast) Everybody take an hour! Go eat or do something productive like beat Raoul.

Madame Giry: (gets malicious look on face)

Raoul: Ummm... (starts backing out with wheel-chair) Help?

One painful hour later, Raoul is on the ground UNDERNEATH his wheelchair, and the narrator is signing for the chandelier.

Workshop dude (the one that was on the phone): Yeah, sorry about all of the confusion! Take care! (hops onto John Deere tractor and rides out)

Madame Giry: Ummm, Narrator?

Narrator: Yes?

Madame Giry: What... was that?

Narrator: On don't worry about it! It has yet to be invented so just pretend you've never seen it!

Raoul: Seen what?

Narrator: (smiling) That's my man! Way to catch on quickly!

Raoul: (confusedly smiling back)

Narrator: (moves off to go and help stagehands finish setting up)

Raoul: (looks to Madame Giry) No, really. What is it that we were looking at?

Madame Giry: (rolls eyes and takes spot in front of chandelier)

Narrator: (comes back to help Raoul back into his wheelchair) Alright, are we all ready?

Cast and Crew: Yes!

Narrator: Then let's get back to recreating this movie! (cues music and pulls chandelier up) Now hear we are in the 1890s watching Carlotta, and her little posse, rehearsing the opera "Hannibal". Oh-ho! What's this? It is the old manager along with the new ones! And the Viscount de Chagny? Wow, what a lucky day this is!

Andre: (introduces Raoul)

Raoul: (struts down the stage looking all formal) (starts doing the "model-wave")

Ballet girls: (some faint while others wave back, trying to grab his attention, all the while, smiling giddily)

Christine: No. Way...

Meg: What is it?

Christine: It's... The boy... The umm... (searching for his name) Uh... The guy off the street...

Meg: The guy off the street? (completely confused) I thought that was Raoul, your childhood playmate?

Christine: Ohhhh! Right. The guy I met off the street was named Henry.

Meg: (still confused and, frankly, a bit worried) Christine, how do you confuse "Raoul" with "Henry"?

Christine: Oh, I don't know! My mind's been a little scrambled!

Meg: Obviously!

Raoul: I am honored, Monsieurs, to be pulled into this wonderful opportunity. Now, I believe I have a hair appointment right... (waits five seconds) NOW! Ciao! (huffs off, all high and mighty)

Christine: (offended) He didn't see me... Seriously! How could you miss a girl with big fluffy curls!

Meg: Oh, Christine. He... Was just distracted. (the two girls hop into line with their peers)

Ballet girls: (start dancing)

Madame Giry: (to the managers) Oh, for crying out loud! Get out of their way!

Narrator: Andre and Firmin immediately jump to the side!

Andre: Ooo! Who's the pretty dumb blonde? (pointing to Meg)

Madame Giry: That "dumb blonde" is my daughter, Meg Giry!

Andre: (blushing and completely embarrassed) I meant "blonde angel!"

Firmin: And that? Who is that beautiful chick right there? (pointing to Christine)

Madame Giry: Chick...? What? She is no chicken!

Firmin: Er, young woman!

Madame Giry: Oh, you mean Christine Daae? Yes, that is her right there.

Ballet girls and Opera cast: (finish dancing)

Andre and Firmin: Bravo! (clapping)

Andre: (to Firmin) Well, Raoul will be very happy tonight!

Carlotta: (in her Italian accent) Why? Is dat some sick joke?

Firmin: Er, no. He meant the gala.

Carlotta: Oh... Well, den he will just have to be unhappy! For I am not singing! (storms off)

Andre: What do we do?

Lefevre: Grovel, gentleman! GROVEL LIKE THE WIND!

Andre and Firmin: (run in front of the angry diva, jumping to their knees and bowing) Oh glorious diva! We need-eth thine services!

Carlotta: Why?

Firmin: Well... Umm... You are a talented woman!

Andre: Yes, very talented!

Carlotta: Well, I suppose you want me to sing, no?

Andre: Actually, I was praying you wouldn't-

Firmin: (jabs his colleague in the ribs)

Carlotta: Alright, if you have to bother me so! I will sing dees song of your's.

Carlotta: (horrible singing)

Narrator: Meanwhile, up from above, the infamous Phantom of the Opera is getting ready to drop the backdrop on top of her!

Carlotta: He is doing WHAT? (runs to Piangi)

Narrator: Ummm, NO! I meant he is... Downstairs... Writing! Working on a big masterpiece!

Carlotta: Oh... (starts singing again)

Narrator: (does "OK" sign with his fingers up to the rafters)

backdrop: CRASH! BANG! WHOOMP!

Narrator: Carlotta is in a big fit and-

Carlotta: (yelling at Narrator) STOP DEEZ SHENANIGANS! DO YOU-A NOT HAVE SOMEWHERE ELSE TO-A BE?

Narrator: (checks script) Oh, yes, right! See you folks later! (dashes off)

Phantom: (calling from above) Sorry! Sorry, Carlotta! That was an accident! What I really meant to do was this: (starts taunting her in his "outrageous french accent" (Monty Python!)) Now never sing again or I will taunt you a second time! (what he's supposed to have of a French accent really coming out) (dashes off laughing his head off)

Phantom: Oh, Monty Python! (voice back to vague hints of Scottish) (pulls out "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" from his coat) What I would do without you I will never know! (kisses the DVD case in his hand)

Meg: Oh my goodness, I think that was the Phantom of the Opera.

Christine: No, no. It couldn't have been. The Phantom is... Darker. More mysterious! And much less attractive!

Meg: Christine! I'm serious! I think that was him!

Christine: Really? How could it have been?

Meg: (pulls out script) Really, Emmy... It says so right here! Now get back into character!

Emmy: Oh yes! (clears throat)

Lefevre: Joseph Buquet, get your butt over here right now!

Buquet: I swear! It wasn't-

Lefevre: No, no! That's not what I want! I wanted to know when you and Gerry were going to dinner.

Buquet: Uh, sir! The camera's rolling!

Lefevre: Oh, it is! Is that what the little red button means on the camera? (starts getting really close to the lens, freaking the viewers out. A lot.)

Narrator: Lefevre! Get back into your character!

Lefevre: Well, what do I ask Buquet now? Gerry- I mean the Phantom... (bursts out laughing) I still can't believe he can SING! HAHAHA!

Narrator: ...You were saying?

Lefevre: (laughing stops, abruptly) Yes, the "Phantom" (finger quotes) just told us that he dropped the backdrop on accident. So it couldn't possibly be Buquet's fault!

Narrator: Okay, you know what? Let's just skip on! Madame Giry! Note! Now, please! I'll see you guys later! I have somewhere to be! (dashes off)

Madame Giry: (walks up to the managers) So I found this note. Looks like the Phantom's asking for... (doesn't have time to finish)

Phantom: (dashes in and up to Madame Giry) (in a normal leveled voice) I need a big block of wood, there's a leak, a hammer, and something to hit Carlotta over the head with. (dashes off)

Madame Giry: (sighs) He says he needs a big-

Phantom: (dashes back in) Oh yes, and nails! (dashes back off)

Madame Giry: He says he needs-

Phantom: (dashes back in) And I need fabric, white, please, scissors, and a mannequin that looks exactly like Christine.

Madame Giry: I thought you did that already? (appalled at his procrastinating)

Phantom: Yes, well, yesterday I was too busy!

Madame Giry: What, staring at the wall?

Phantom: Precisely! So glad you could understand! (dashes off)

Madame Giry: (waiting for him to come dashing back)

Phantom: (yelling from off camera) Well, what are you waiting for? Tell them!

Madame Giry: (sighs, but recites everything Erik told her, even though the managers have already heard)

Andre: Yes, yes, of course. But why does he need fabric?

Madame Giry: Script, please.

Andre: (pulls his script out of nowhere) (hands said script to Madame Giry)

Madame Giry: (searching) Aha! Right here! (the two managers read what she's pointing at)

Firmin: Ah, I see. But no! We cannot give that stuff to him!

Madame Giry: ...Why ever not?

Andre: Because we don't feel like it.

Phantom: (yells from the rafters) OH COME ON! (suddenly a crashing is heard from said rafters)

Andre and Firmin: OOF! (they get crushed by a falling house)

Narrator: ...And it appears the Wicked Witch of the We- I mean two managers have just been killed by a falling house... Ummm... Phantom?

Phantom: (suddenly appears right at the Narrator's side) Yes?

Narrator: (jumps) (shakes surprised feeling away) What did you do that for? (points to the two pairs of feet sticking out from underneath the house)

Phantom: They wouldn't give me what I wanted.

Narrator: So now you're a spoiled little brat?

Phantom: Yes, yes I am. (disappears in an explosion of smoke)

Narrator: Great... He's not making my life any easier... (pulls out cellphone)

Opera attenders, random civilians, stagehands, ballerinas, chorus singers, and anyone else who happens to work/live/be in the Opera House: (gather and stare at the strange little boxythingamajig in the Narrator's hand)

Narrator: (dials in a number) (waits for the other line to pick up)

Person on the other end of the phone: Y'ello?

Narrator: Yes, Creator? (not the Creator you're thinking of. Creator= Author= person writing this story, okay?)

Person on the other end of the phone who shall henceforth be known as "Creator": What do you need now, Narrator #1,245?

Narrator: Yes, well... We had a little... "accident" over at the Garnier... Mind sending two other buffoons to play Andre and Firmin? (Narrator hangs phone up and everyone, now, can hear the Creator's voice emanating from an unknown source)

Creator: Oh, Narrator #1,245! I can't keep pulling these new characters out!

Narrator: I know and I am very sorry to disturb you, but the managers have very important parts-

Creator: I know that! Just... (sighs) Give me a minute... (entire Opera House goes silent as they listen to the sound of ruffling papers and the occasional "OUCH! WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?" from their Creator) Aha! Here it is! (Opera House listens to scribbling and their Creator talk to herself) Here you go! Now, I'm not the best artist... So they may look a little... Different... (random door appears in the air and two paper figures come floating through it and onto the ground) Now if I have to create anymore characters for you, Narrator #1,245, you may end up like Narrator #467!

Narrator: (shivers at the thought of #467) Yes your great and creative one! (waits for Creator's voice to stop) Alright, everyone! Especially you, Phantom! No killing and/or destroying any characters! Creator is in a bit of a bad mood today and... (the dead body of some random stagehand who shall henceforth be known as "Bob" comes crashing down) PHANTOM!

Phantom: (yelling from the rafters) I never liked you! So good riddance!

Creator: (voice again emanating from an unknown source) NARRATOR #1,245! WHAT DID I TELL YOU?

Narrator: It was Phantom! Not my fa-aaaaaaaaaaaa! (gets sucked through the ceiling)

Paper Firmin and Andre, who shall henceforth be known as "Firmin" and "Andre": (stand up) Woah... What's going on? (Firmin fixes his paper top hat and brushes his paper mustache while Andre fixes his paper monocle and his paper mustache)

Creator: I never liked him either... Couldn't do his job right... (scratching and scribbling of pen on paper is heard) There! Voila!

The New Narrator, who shall henceforth be known as "Narrator": (drops through the same door in the air) (door vanishes with a "POP" that makes everybody jump, and the Narrator stands) Where am I...? (she smooths out her ruffled skinny jeans, fixes nice looking leather jacket, and messes short red hair up. Begins to examine the place)

Creator: Narrator #1,246! Welcome to the Palais Garnier Opera House!

Narrator: Oh, cool! Hi everybody!

Opera House, including the actual Opera House and other inanimate objects: Hello Narrator #1,246!

Narrator: You can just call me Stingray!

Opera House, including said building and other said inanimate objects: Hello Stingray!

* * *

><p><em>Alright, well... There you have it! That's my first part! And don't worry! The story from the movie will get back in progress in the next part! I promise! Now review away my faithful readers who only just started reading this story! <em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Hahaha, HI GUYS! Sorry for the super-de-duper delayed update... Well... Let's just say I haven't really been updating any of my stories... I feel super-de-duperly bad! I hope you guys can forgive me and still maybe even somewhat like me after all of this time. I just... Well, I took this Creative Writing class last semester and unfortunately, I couldn't write a Fanfic for my big project... :P So instead, I wrote a story about gladiators on steroid-like drugs! In a dystopian setting! Yay for depression! Let's just say there was a lot of gore, violence, blood, and absolutely no humor... So that's what I've spent my life doing for pretty much the past... Well, since school started, basically. But now it's the middle of my 3rd quarter and I'm not taking that class anymore so I have more time to write! Yay! So I've been trying to update all of my stories at least a chapter. And I've been feeling so guilty for all of my poor little followers (you guys) who love my story and have probably given up all hope for updates... PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! _

_So, well... Enjoy the chapter! If you can get past all feelings of hate and neglect... I really am super sorry. I'll be trying to update a lot, now, and that seems accomplish-able now that I've gotten my own laptop and pretty much have all night on weekends to write. Oh, and for all of you guys who want me to add PM, I've been trying to talk my dad into it. I know, I'm a youngin' and all (Freshman in highschool and proud!) And my dad only agreed to let me get this account if I was super careful (he's super internet paranoid; I don't even have a Facebook yet...) I haven't really mentioned it yet, but I'll ask him soon. But try not to get your hopes up too high because I'm not too sure he's going to be too keen on the idea... But he MAY let me get a Fanfic email and you guys can communicate to me that way. I'd really love to chat to you guys (A LOT!) but I love my dad and bide by the rules. Soooo... Yep. That's the end of that business. For now... TO BE CONTINUED! (Hahaha, OVER-DRMATIC...NESS/OSITY/OTHER COOL SUFFIX SOUNDS!)_

* * *

><p>Narrator: So where are we at in the story?<p>

Phantom: You were about to give me a whole lot of money, my own TV show, Christine, and a bunch-

Madame Giry: (elbows him in the ribs) Buquet just convinced everybody he didn't drop the backdrop.

Narrator: Oh, okay.

Phantom: And you were about to give me a whole lot of money-

Madame Giry: Oh, go back to griping about your tiny disfigurement in the 5th cellar. Or, I have a better idea. How about you go flex for Christine?

Phantom: Or I could go gripe in the 5th cellar about my tiny disfigurement WHILE flexing for Christine! (runs off, super excitedly yelling for Christine)

Narrator: Well... He's... A lot different..er than I thought.

Madame Giry: Yes, well... That (points in his direction) happens when that (points at a poster of ALW that popped out of thin air just recently and is about to disappear because it is no longer needed other than the quick picture of ALW) writes a musical about that (points to Gaston Leroux sneaking cookies from the refrigerator (cookies in a refrigerator? Who thought up that idea?)), which causes that (points to Creator)-

Creator: Hey!

Madame Giry: To get an obsession with that (points back to Erik who is now showing off his biceps to an awed Christine)

Creator: Stop making me look like one of THEM!

Madame Giry: ...Who's THEM?

Creator: ...Come closer...

Madame Giry: To where? The ceiling? Am I supposed to magically fly?

Creator: ...If that were possible, yes... Fine, just make me whisper... (annoyed grunt) I'm not one of those people obsessed with the movie anymore.

POTO-movie-people: (GASP!)

Creator: Well, it's not like I hate it... Buuuut... I just don't love it like a used to.

POTO-movie-people: (GASP, GASP!)

Creator: I still watch it! But I'd rather be talking to myself about Leroux's/Kay's novel... Ummm... You didn't hear that last part, okay?

Phantom: (suddenly paying attention to Creator (for once...)) You talk to yourself too?

Creator: NO! Erm... I mean... Sometimes...? It doesn't matter, okay? I still like the movie, just not love it... I mean, after you've seen it 30 times (shudder)... Yeeeeeeeeah...

Phantom: How dare you insult us like that!

POTO-movie-people: (storm off, whispering to each other, until there's just a blank page)

Creator: (looks at Narrator and Madame Giry who remained) Sooo... You guys aren't offended?

Narrator: Well, I'm not part of the POTO cast so it doesn't really effect me.

Madame Giry: Not in the slightest. Would you like me to go call everybody back so we can start back up again?

Creator: Naw, I'll just pull out this cool remote thing that I got today from Henry!

Madame Giry: ...So he does exist?

Creator: Mm-hmm. He's so much cooler than Raoul so I have no idea how Christine got them mixed up.

Madame Giry: ...I see...

Creator: So if I just press this rewind button... (everything starts to play backwards) Aha! (now everyone's back together, chatting, showing people their biceps, etc.) Now, people! Let's get back to the main objective of this story, shall we?

POTO-movie-people plus Narrator: Agreed!

Narrator: Alright, well... So here we are. Carlotta has left and it appears Christine will just have to take her place. Oh, no... The plot-line is proceeding!

Christine: Soooo... Yeah, I can, like, totally fill in for Carlotta, like... Totally.

Andre: Firmin, do you think we should let this chorus girl sing?

Madame Giry: She's been well taught, I assure you.

Phantom: (comes running in, screaming like a little girl) THERE'S A COBWEB IN MY HAIR, THERE'S A COBWEB IN MY HAIR!

Madame Giry: ...I take that back...

Narrator: Oh, for goodness' sake! (pushes him out of sight, frantically brushing away invisible cobwebs)

Firmin: ...Do you think it's possible for us to think? I mean, we are made of pap-

Madame Giry: YES, YOU ARE CAPABLE OF THINKING AND YES, SHE IS CAPABLE OF SINGING! Now may we proceed with this story?

Firmin: Erm, yes... Sing for us, dear girl.

Christine: Okay. (steps forward, singing Think of Me like rehearsed)

Sudden scene change to performance night.

Stagehand 1: (whispers to Stagehand 2) Do you think it matters if her singing is a bit off from her mouth movement?

Stagehand 2: Eh. No one will notice.

Stagehand 1: Oh, okay. So we shouldn't take it out?

Stagehand 2: Nah.

Stagehand 1: Okay.

Phantom: (skipping down a hall that just happens to be placed under an equally coincidentally placed stage where the love of his life just happens to be singing) (singing to himself:) Walking down the halls for no apparent reason because I always do this and I like to sing because we're in a musical and a week of singing lessons hasn't been quite enough so I have to practice and- (suddenly hears Christine) Oh. My. BEETHOVEN'S FAT UNCLE (citation needed) she's SINGING! (halts, mid-stride) (loses balance and falls forward, onto his face) (half-mask cracks in... half (?)) (freaks out) IT'S BROKEN, IT'S BROKEN! AAAAAAAAAHHHHH! (runs away screaming like a little girl)

Christine: (completely oblivious to the sounds of girlish screaming coming from down below) (belts out last notes)

Audience: (equally oblivious to obvious girly screaming) (stands for a standing ovation and cheers) Woooo!

Andre: Brava! Magnifiqua! Stupenda!

Firmin: Do you even know what half of those words mean? (totally knows what those words mean but just wants to tease his colleague)

Andre: Haven't the slightest clue.

Firmin: Then how do you know that you didn't just call her mother a fat, ugly cow?

Andre: (wide eyes) (pulls out Italian-English dictionary)

Audience: (still clapping wildly)

Narrator: Hey, guys! (motions for everything to stop) (everything does so) Can we just skip to the mirror scene? I mean, the rest of this is pretty much pointless except for Christine/Raoul relationship development and no one wants to really see that so... Is that alright witchoo?

Audience and Christine: Mmmm, yeah, okay. (everyone stands and departs, heading to their next stations)

Narrator: Christine! (motions wildly for Christine to come over to her)

Christine: Yes, Stingray?

Narrator: Umm... Well, I just wanted to give you some advice...

Christine: Okay.

Narrator: Well, first a question... Do you regularly wear tights to bed?

Christine: Of course. Why?

Narrator: Well, I just thought... I would advise you not. Don't wear tights tonight.

Christine: Why not?

Narrator: Umm... They... Might... Get ruined! (snap) Yeah! They might get ruined!

Christine: Ooooohhhh... Okay! Thanks, Stingray! I knew you were watching out for me!

Narrator: (whispers quietly) In more than you think...

Christine: What was that?

Narrator: You're welcome!

Christine: Oh, okay! Well, I have to go. Bye! (runs off to her dressing room to change and get ready to be abducted)

Narrator: Phew... (wipes metaphorical sweat from brow) Now where's that Phantom when I need him?

Phantom: (takes this moment to run into the auditorium with his hand pressed to his face and his other hand waving something white frantically in the air) AAAAAAAHHHH! IT'S BROKEN, IT'S BROKEN! MERCY HELP US, IT'S BROKEN!

Narrator: Woah, calm down! What's broken?

Phantom: (chucks broken mask into Stingray's face) THIS, YOU IMBECILE!

Narrator: Here, I have another one. (hands him a brand new one)

Phantom: (hisses at her, grabs mask, and replaces it to his face)

Narrator: Now get back into character, really! (SLAP, SLAP, KICK)

Phantom: Ow... (massaging jaw) Alright, what scene are we doing now? I heard we were skipping some parts. (oddly not acting like a 5 year old anymore; deadly serious and back in character)

Narrator: Yes, we're skipping to the mirror scene.

Phantom: (seduce-like smile creeps up his face) You mean the one before the scene where I get to remove Christine's tights?

Narrator: Oh, she's not wearing tights anymore so any undressing/Peeping-Tom activity is not needed anymore.

Phantom: (jaw drops and smile fades) Bu-bu-bu... Bu-bu... I'm.. She... Says in... What? Why would you do that?

Narrator: Because you already look like a pervert! You don't need to look like an even worse one.

Phantom: How am I a pervert?

Narrator: I think that just the fact that you're annoyed that you can't undress a 16 year-old girl gives it away... You also stalk her.

Phantom: (scoffs) I do not!

Narrator: Watching her sleep last night, I presume?

Phantom: Yes-nooo... (blush)

Narrator: You and Edward Cullen would hit it off, I would think. Both born in the 19th century, get little to no sun, watch girls sleep-

Phantom: Who's Edward Cullen?

Narrator: -probably don't know who each other are, aaand... Well, yeah. You guys would be best friends.

Phantom: (glares at me) Yes, well, I have a movie to be in so ta-ta for now. (stalks off, mumbling under his breath)

Narrator: Both overly-dramatic... (sigh) Aye carumba, it's about time. He was driving me crazy. (heads off to next destination, muttering, "Wait, so if he's Edward, then Raoul's a werewolf?")

Christine: (sitting at dressing room table) Waiting... Waiting... Waaaaaaaiiiiting... Getting boooored of waaaaaiting... (big exasperated sigh)

Meanwhile, a few doors down:

Phantom: (sitting inside the mirror, rehearsing what he's going to say) Aha! I have found you! No, no... Too violent... How about I just say, "I found you!" No... Not Angel of Music-y enough... Hmmm... Oh, damn it all. I'm just going to go out there, grab her, and take her to my lair whether or not she actually wants to! Yes, yes that is quite diabolical. (grins, opening mirror)

Carlotta: (screams) What-a is this? (begins to throw stuff at him)

Phantom: (annoyed sigh) I knew it was the next one over! (avoids being hit with perfumes, pillows, other such things that Carlotta could get her hands on immediately) (doesn't quite avoid getting hit with her dog) Aaah! Madame, contain yourself!

Carlotta: (still screaming and hucking stuff at him)

Phantom: I can't remember, am I allergic to dogs? (thinks about it while scratching at his arm that is now sponsoring hives) Oh, yes... I am. (chucks dog back at Carlotta, runs back into mirror, and closes the thing) Shoot, this isn't good... (swelling up) Oh, ca alors... (facepalm)

Narrator: (rushing through the passageways looking for our Phantom) Where are you? You're supposed to be-

Phantom: (catches her by the arm as she almost passes him) I'm right here!

Narrator: (jumps in alarm) There you are! You're supposed to be abducting Chri-

Phantom: I know! But does it look like I am in the right to be kidnapping her right now? (gestures at his swelling face) My face is already deformed, I don't need it to be bloated!

Narrator: ...Are you bi-polar or someting?

Phantom: Does that have any importance at all to my dilemma here?

Narrator: No, I was just merely wondering... Just a moment ago you were screaming like a 5 year-old and now... You're all mature. Are you okay?

Phantom: Quite fine! NOW FIX MY FACE!

Narrator: I don't have a PhD! What're you asking me for?

Phantom: Oh, you're useless! (lets go of Stingray and stalks off down the hallway, muttering, "Where's a doctor when you need one?")

Narrator: Well, if you were the OTHER Phantom, Erik, you wouldn't need a doctor! You could fix this all by yourself.

Phantom: STOP COMPARING ME TO HIM!

Narrator: (grins in pleasure) Oh, pissing him off is so fun to do.

Creator: What's all the commotion down there? My story's supposed to already be at the "Notes" part!

Narrator: We're having a bit of a crisis with our Prima Donna, here.

Creator: What, Carlotta? Isn't she-

Narrator: No, our Phantom.

Creator: Oh, I see. What's the issue?

Narrator: Honestly I don't know how it happened. All I know is that I go looking for him because he missed his cue and I find him with his face bloating up in an allergic reaction.

Creator: You compared him to Erik, right?

Narrator: Of course!

Creator: Good. He needs to step up to the plate. Now where were you?

Narrator: Yes, right. Now he's stormed off like the over-dramatic Prima Donna that he is.

Creator: Hmmm... This is quite the dilemma... Sorry, readers, but we're having technical difficulties. Please, if you would-

STAND BY


End file.
